I know most of my Facebook friends don’t read my blog. Heck, most FB friends don’t ever comment on any of my posts (HUGE appreciation to those who have done so and continue to do so.). I’m cool with that. According to my WordPress stats, even less of my Twitter followers read my blog. Okay with that, too. But some of my blog followers regularly check this place out, and have even left a comment. So… because this blog has served as a literary evolution of sorts for me, I want to let you know that my second book (which may come out before my first book) can now be pre-ordered here, here, here, on Amazon. It doesn’t come out until March, but I want to let you know before I do the whole FB, Twitter, tumblr, etc. thing. It’s called When Kerosene’s Involved and it’s a book of prose poems. I wrote most of the poems in the book from fall of 2010 – summer of 2011. Thank you to those who pre-order it, and thank you for your support. I never intended to write a book, but feel quite accomplished and thankful.

Something for me to think about (via HTML Giant) as the new year approaches and both my books come out. One of them is already available for pre-order through Amazon, but I haven’t hyped it up yet. I will let you know when the hype begins. But since you follow my blog, stumbled upon my blog, or perhaps even stalk my blog, you’ll buy my books, right? Won’t you?

Poetry. Surrender the sweater vest, lose the loafers, pop the collar. These are not your grandfather’s prose poems. Nor are they your father’s. They belong to a new generation. A generation that values poetic craft, fresh language, and images that burn. These prose poems maintain a controlled, consistent voice, despite the many colorful subjects explored. Fairy tales go awry, pop culture is pimped out, lovers take leaps of faith that can only end in injury. Surreal worlds and crisp words create an artful violence that’s vital like oxygen. The voice of these poems commands your attention. He walks up to you, looks you in the eye, and punches you in the gut. And you are winded, and you look at him, and he simply walks away. And you realize, you liked it.